


the canary

by maximuminsertnow



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Angst, F/M, Horror, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Maybe - Freeform, Murder-Suicide, One-Sided Relationship, Romance, Tragedy, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 04:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13263927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximuminsertnow/pseuds/maximuminsertnow
Summary: Len could buy anything he wanted in the world, so why couldn't he buy her love?noncest,, inspired by Purgatory and the Canary Girl. cross-posted from ffnet.





	the canary

**the canary**

With money, one could buy anything in the world.

Right. Right?

_Anything_  one desired.

Len had the money; he had as much money as he wanted. His suit was designer, his house made of marble, his jewellery gold and diamond. He lived luxury, revelled in a life that others would envy.

Money could buy anything in the world. Anything, anything - even happiness.

He knew that. He knew from the way his father would adorn his mother in the finest jewels, to please her, when he was caught sleeping with the local prostitutes and she would weep herself to sleep on the stairs. He knew from the way his mother threw expensive dinner parties to impress all her uptight friends, who'd secretly bitch about her looks and failing relationship behind her back.

Even if he had a gaping hole in his chest, he knew he could buy something with money to fill it up.

Just whatever it was, he was yet to discover.

.

.

.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. The sun cast an orange glow on the dirty city streets. Len picked at the lint on his sleeves as he made his way along the footpath, preoccupied with thoughts of his schedule that evening. If he didn't busy his mind with plans and ideas and the like, he would become uncomfortably aware of the lonely pit in his heart.

As he made his way down the busy street, past blank-faced commuters, his ears caught the sound of a sweet voice. He stopped a moment, listened, picking out lyrics like cherries floating down a honey river.

Len licked his lips, turning his head towards the music, eyes peering through the dusty window of a downtown bar. Through the hazy glass he could make out the figure of a woman on stage, across the room, performing some jazz-like song.

Intrigued, he pushed open the door and peeked through. The singer, a young lady probably no older than 20, had caught his attention. She was frail and tired-looking, with straw-like blonde hair and caked-on makeup. Her dress swam on her, and she was so small, she looked lost in front of her audience.

Her voice, he noted, reminded him of a bird. It was like she was chirping a sweet melody; a songbird, a canary.

Len moved forward to the back of the crowd, captured by her voice.

She was pretty, probably, under the dark eye makeup and exhausted expression. How many hours she spent there, being their little music box, burned as a question in his mind.

He stood in place, trapped under her spell, for what seemed like hours - watching her tweet on that stage, her fragile hands clutching her microphone like life support. Finally, she finished and thanked the audience, before disappearing behind the stage curtain.

A man in a suit and tie stepped up after her, ready to announce the next performer. "That was our daily special performance by Rin. Up next is the…"

Len didn't stay around to listen, just taking note of her awfully plain name. Rin. Rin.  _Like a bell?_  he mused as he ducked out of the bar, unnoticed.

The way home, all he could think of was her beautiful, icy blue gaze.

.

.

.

When time would permit, he would visit the bar to see Rin's daily performances. Sometimes she sang the same things, other times she threw in new songs as well. Either way, he could never grow bored of the sound of her voice.

Seeing her on stage, hearing her sing, made his heart move in a way it never had before. It was almost  _painful_ , and he wondered, watching her tiny hands as they gripped the microphone, had she already been taken?

She wore one measly, old-looking ring, but it wasn't on her ring finger, which eased him a little. It was probably a keepsakes, or something, he assumed, with hope he could swoop in like a crow and take this little canary home.

Alas, it was almost impossible to approach her. The bar staff were adamant on keeping her identity private, ensuring no one could interact with her, almost like bodyguards. He supposed it was probably fair, given the sketchy figures who frequented the bar.

But how was he supposed to get to her?

"I want to get to know her," he said to one of the bartenders. "Is there any way at all I could talk with her? Or meet her?"

The bartender looked smug, rubbing vigorously at the mug in her hand with a towel. "Smitten with her, aren't you? Don't think no one has noticed that you only come when she's performing."

Len flushed, and he adjusted his collar in discomfort. "Is it  _so_  wrong to want to meet someone you admire?" he asked.

"Look, buddy," she said with a sigh. "She signed a safety contract with us. Unless she shows interest and gives us the okay, it's illegal for us to do anything that breaks that contract."

He frowned, disappointed. But he was adamant on catching his canary, no matter what game he had to play to succeed.

"Well, then," he said, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a letter with her name written on it in neat handwriting. "At least pass on some fan mail for me. I want her to know how much I appreciate her performances, more than just a measly applause."

The bartender took the letter from his outstretched hand with caution. "Hmm. Alright. Since you seem so persistent."

Len then flashed her one of his blinding smiles. "Thank you." He stood from his stool by the bar, then paused. "Oh, and, please do actually give it to her. She might actually smile on stage for once."

He turned away and sauntered out of the bar without looking back at the bartender once.

.

.

.

The next time he visited the bar, the same bartender was there, rubbing her mugs and looking as bitter as ever in her appearance.

"Good evening," he greeted. There was another half hour before Rin's performance was to start, anyway.

She glanced up, and upon recognising him, rolled her eyes. "Oh. It's just  _you_  again, with your shit-eating grin."

Len ignored her snarky reply, giving her another charming smile. "Did you deliver my letter?"

"Unfortunately," the bartender said, rather dry. "It seems your method worked - Rin wants to talk to you. But not for the reason you're probably thinking. She wants to return the money."

"Oh." His smile fell a centimetre, a slight pang in his chest. "It was merely a gift."

The bartender eyed him. "Perhaps for  _you_. But to her, she feels its unnecessary. I'm sure if you're a true fan, you'd understand." She was then the one to give him a smirk, before turning away.

Len kept his mouth shut, juggling the meaning behind her words. He was sure she probably didn't even get paid enough for the amount of time she worked at this dingy bar. Why would she turn down a tip? Most of the girls he knew would run for the hills with the money, clucking over what makeup and dresses they could buy with it.

_Hmm._

He picked at a loose thread in his sleeve, mulling over what part of 'tipping' he got wrong.

Maybe he was too forward in the letter, and she was irked? Perhaps that was it. But really, all he did was compliment her… and he made sure not to  _over_ do it.

Rin's airy voice pulled him from his daze, and he turned his head towards the source. She was on stage again, the sweet canary, looking so small against the dark curtain backdrop.

She said a few words, a few measly thank you's and the usual. She was always so timid when talking, but so  _free_  when singing.

Just the very sight of her pulled hard on his heart, and he was swelling, for she was probably the only thing in the world he  _truly_  wanted.

_It's okay,_  he reassured himself.  _Money can buy you anything in the world. I'm sure you can get her, as well._

.

.

.

When Rin finished singing that night, she bustled off stage as if having important business to attend to. Len wondered, watching as the curtain fell behind her back and she disappeared into that mysterious place labelled  _backstage_ , if it was true she was going to return the money.

"She's coming to talk to you, don't worry," the bartender said with that irritating smug look once more, as if she sensed his anxiety. Then she laughed down at her hands. "You look like a pet waiting for its owner."

Len didn't respond, swallowing hard, focusing on his heart beating hard in his chest. He'd never been this nervous about anything before. He'd never been this nervous about a  _girl_  before.

He almost heard his father's criticising voice, telling him to  _man up_.

"Is she mad?" he found himself asking the woman behind the counter.

"No. Not mad. Perhaps just… confused," she answered. "I suppose, in the life she's lived, receiving money is not much a compliment to her…"

He rubbed at his chin. "Hmm."

The bartender eyed him. "Of course, having money at your disposal all your life would make it hard to imagine a life without it."

So she really was…  _poor_ , so to say.

The minutes ticked by, as he thought on what kind of (awful) life Rin may have lived in his deluded, spoilt mind. At least half an hour or an hour had passed before he grew restless, assuming the bartender was just keeping him there as a practical joke.

He imagined her talking to Rin after her shift, snickering, "You should've seen him wait there all night, expecting you to show up!" It hurt a little to think about.

Just as Len was mentally deciding to up and leave, a small voice came from behind, in almost a whisper.

"Are you Mr Len Kagamine?"

He started, whipping around to face a familiar young woman. Her makeup had disappeared and her hair was slightly amess, but it took him no longer than half a second to realise it was Rin.

_Rin_.

Her face was small and narrow, dappled with freckles across her cheeks. Her eyes were big, the clearest blue he'd ever seen. She truly did remind him, somewhat, of a little songbird.

He smiled out of habit, his usual blinding smile, and she offered something back, but kept her distance. Her hands were holding something out in front of her, knuckles turning white.

At the same time, he became aware of the bartender's strict gaze.

_Ah_. So she was keeping watch over him.

What did they think he was going to do, up and run with her? Humans were hard to smuggle from a bar, especially so early in the evening. (Not that the thought ever crossed his mind. He was a man of fairplay.)

Len then realised he hadn't answered her question, just been staring at her the entire time. "Yes," he responded, cheeks glowing. "I am."

Rin took a shaky breath, and for a moment he thought she might faint. But she regained composure, holding up whatever she had in her hands to his chest.

"I'm very flattered by your… offering, but I'm afraid I have to politely decline. Please, take your money back."

He didn't lift his hands to take the envelope she held out. "Are you not allowed to take tips for your performances?"

She hesitated. "No," she said in a tiny voice. "It's allowed. I just feel uncomfortable accepting money from a stranger when I believe I've done nothing to achieve it."

Len's lips turned down a fraction. "Don't believe you've done anything to achieve it? But you perform so well. If I didn't think you were deserving of it, I wouldn't have given it."

Rin opened her mouth, then closed it, brooding over a response. "Please, sir. I can't accept this. I can't accept a stranger's money."

"But it's no longer my money. I've given it to you. It's no longer something I own; it's yours."

She seemed to be growing frustrated, but tried to keep her expression straight. "And sir, I'm giving it back to you. I don't need it."

"Do you need help, Rin?" the bartender interjected, leaning over towards them. She set her towel and glass aside, narrowing her eyes at Len.

Rin lowered her hands, before lifting one again to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Uh… um. No. Meiko, thank you, but it's fine."

Meiko the bartender. Huh.

"Well sweetie, if you need anything, just yell, because I'm right here," Meiko said, as if it wasn't already obvious enough.

Len released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Look, Rin - may I call you that?" She gave a shy nod, and he continued, "I'm sorry that giving you a tip has made you feel uncomfortable. I simply wanted a way to show how much I appreciate your performances. You're the first -" He cleared his throat, "-  _singer_  who has moved me. I just want to ensure you can continue performing comfortably, and know that your hard work is appreciated."

Rin's eyebrows furrowed as she listened to him speak, lowering her hands until he couldn't see them in his peripheral anymore. "It's truly quite the compliment to hear that, and I'm glad that you enjoy my performances. But there's no need to worry about me. I'm quite comfortable, and I can assure you that I will not quit performing anytime soon."

"That's great to know," said Len. "But I still insist you keep the money. Please, you can do whatever you want with it - but don't give it back. I'll rest easy knowing you received it."

Her eyelids fluttered shut for a moment, and she took a breath, as if thinking hard on it. "Alright…" she said. "Since you're being stubborn, I'll keep it. I don't know what I'll do with it, but I'll keep it."

"Thank you."

Rin looked up at him proper this time, and gave him a warm smile. "No, no, I should be thanking you - Mr Kagamine, wasn't it?"

"Len is just fine."

"Len, thank you." She put the letter away in her coat pocket, and reached out to grab his hand in her own, a handshake. Her hands were warm and soft, and as truly as small as they appeared against his own.

How much he wanted to  _hold_  them, protect them…

His heart fluttered at the thought, but he pushed it away for the time being.

"That's a pretty ring," he complimented, taking his chance to confirm whether his suspicions were of any concern or not.

"Oh, this old thing?" she said, taking her hands back from his and gazing down at the ring she always wore. "It was my grandmother's engagement ring. It's a bit of a good luck charm for me…"

"The answer is, she doesn't have a boyfriend," Meiko's voice interrupted from the side.

Len's cheeks grew warm and he cleared his throat. "That… wasn't what I meant. But thank you for the information, anyway." He glanced over at her and her smug expression. She had been watching the whole time.

Rin just offered a pretty smile, as if not really understanding the conversation, or choosing not to show any reaction to it at all. "I'm sorry to depart so soon, but I have to clean up backstage still, so…"

He smiled back. "Oh, that's alright. I suppose it's time for me to head home, anyway."

"Ah, yes. I'm sorry for keeping you here waiting for so long, for something so… so… trivial. Next time, do treat him to a drink on my behalf, Meiko." Rin looked over at the bartender, who just rose her eyebrows in amusement.

"That's if I  _want_  to give him a free drink," she responded.

Rin laughed, sounding nervous. "Don't be so cruel," she said over her shoulder. She'd picked up Len's bags, handing them over to him now. "I'm truly sorry for keeping you. It was a pleasure to talk with you, though."

He took them, revelling in the brief moment the skin of his hands grazing against hers. "It's no problem, Rin. It was a pleasure talking with you too. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule."

She nodded, ducking her head, suddenly too shy to make eye contact. "Have a nice evening," she said, before disappearing off into the crowd of the bar, out through the back door.

Meiko was laughing about something, dragging his attention back to her.

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"Oh nothing," she said, with the wave of a hand. "But, you know, between you and me, hon - you'll need to try harder if you want her so badly."

Len could only blush, a little insulted, before he left the bar for home.

.

.

.

Somehow, while he was too busy being charmed, Rin had managed to sneak the money into his bag.

He didn't know  _how_  she got it past him, but he guessed he wasn't the sharpest in her presence. Nevertheless, he replayed that night's encounter over and over again in his head, giddy like a elementary schooler with a first love.

At least, with the money she left a little note of apology along the lines of,  _I'm really sorry. Please don't think I'm not grateful! I'm very grateful for your support!_

It hurt, just a bit. Maybe a lot, but he told himself it didn't hurt as much as it felt.

Len pondered ways to get to her over and over again. He was determined, convinced that they were meant to be. Perhaps he was obsessed, but it was an obsession he would keep to himself.

For months to come he'd still frequent the bar to watch Rin perform, listening to that snarky bartender drop lines every now and again. Meiko didn't seem very fond of him, and he wasn't of her either, to be frank.

In between her bitter chatter, he'd pick up pieces of information about Rin he didn't know: in return for her performances, the manager of the bar would provide housing and food and other necessities. So in other words, she really  _didn't_  get any money for her work. This new development confused him even more.

One particular night, he cracked a bit, feeling a little fed up by Meiko's sly insults.

"You know, do I have  _any_ chance? Any at  _all?_ "

He was a tad drunk and in a bad mood. That probably didn't help his filter.

The bartender laughed at him. "Pathetic," she said. "You really are just some horny little boy, aren't you?"

"I never said I wanted  _sex_ ," he grumbled into his cup. "Do you associate everything I do to have some sexual motive? I don't want her body. I want  _her_."

Meiko rolled her eyes, snatching up his glass from him to grab his attention. She topped it up despite him not asking for a refill. "You sound no less suspicious when you phrase it like that,  _Mr Kagamine_." She handed him back the glass.

He took a gulp of his drink, avoiding a response.

She sighed. "You know, if you want her so much, you just have to go through the manager."

"What?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Rin had stopped performing several hours ago, and right now his mind was being distracted by the numbing yodeller on stage - or, whatever the heck the performer was doing.

"You have to go through the manager," Meiko repeated, stretching her words out as if speaking to a child. "You don't have any chance with her, otherwise."

"I got that, but what do you mean?"

"Well, you know how she's signed in contract with the manager of the bar. He's basically the reason why no one can get to her. He wants her all to himself. She's the money maker for this place."

Len blinked. "Money maker? What, because he doesn't pay her?"

"No, you idiot. Don't you notice the crowd this place gathers when she's performing? People, like you, only come for her. This bar would be long gone if not for her. He doesn't want her to have any reason to quit, or to turn down his 'compensation' for her performances. You know, if she were to become a housewife… or suddenly start demanding a proper pay because she's been offered a better place to live, such as with a partner."

He paused, the words soaking in. Then he took another swig of his beer, frowning into the cup. "That's… awful."

Meiko shook her head. "It's how it is," she said. "We're fortunate to be paid, albeit shitty, but she's trapped here, Len."

Len swirled the cup around on the bench, watching the yellow bubbles in the cup react with movement. He hadn't… thought much about it, but that exhausted look on her face, her seemingly fragile appearance - it all made sense.

"She won't be for long," he mumbled through a hiccup.

Meiko lifted her head. "Huh?"

But before she could get an answer from him, he tossed his payment for the drinks onto the bar counter, standing from the stool and grabbing for his jacket. "Keep the change," he said over his shoulder, then swaggered out of the bar.

Perhaps, perhaps there was a way he could capture his beloved canary after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I think there are at least like, 10 different attempts floating around in my many docs folders on both google and my hard drive for this story, but i finally made somewhat progress, but it'll be a mystery whether or not I'll complete it because LOL.
> 
> I've been really wanting to write a fic based off Purgatory and the Canary Girl by HayakawaP for a v long time bc HayakawaP is a good source for Kagamine suffering(tm) so douzo yoroshiku bitches here it is. you know it ain't a fanfic by me if i don't write something angsty and/or just fucking stupid. hooty hoo
> 
> anyway if you haven't listened to hayakawaP's girl series yet i Highly Very Strongly Suggest You Do bc you're clearly missing out on some *quality* songs. P.S. listen to the tekelili series and nightwalker too for rin (lovingly) eating len, and len having a nice zombie ass. very under-appreciated songs and producer, completely disappointed in this fandom as a result,,,,,,
> 
> By The Way that reminds me there is a Detective girl fic (inspired by one of the songs in the girl series) on ffnet that's really amazingly great like x300 times better than I can dream to write, and it funked me up good, by 4200LittleBunny2 GO NOW QUICK RUN BEFORE TIME RUNS OUT RUN GO YOU HAVE TO READ LEAVE REVIEWS FOR EVERY CHAPTER APPRECIATE THE AUTHOR
> 
> anyway yeah cross-posted from ffnet so yeet yeet toot toot


End file.
